


Gone

by FangirlFromTheUnderworld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, PTSD Dean, Sad, angst destiel, castiel - Freeform, dean/cas - Freeform, sad destiel, sad fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlFromTheUnderworld/pseuds/FangirlFromTheUnderworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has been gone, for a long time. Castiel has been looking after him, keeping him alive after Sam said yes to the devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Maybe Dean should get up. 

Maybe he shouldn't, that seemed like too much work. 

But Cas seemed more concerned today than usual, maybe getting up will make him stop. It makes him feel bad when Cas gets like that. 

But then the sun shines through the window and hurts his eyes, and he decides maybe the darkness is better. 

 

______

 

He wakes up and it's dark beyond the dirty window. He has to blink to see the dull pink curtains hanging on the sides. He is studying the cloth when he hears footsteps coming to wherever he is now.

A hand appears on his cheek, a voice mumbles something he doesn't listen to. He knows it's Castiel, he just doesn't care. The hand stays on his cheek and he can't make it go black again, so the words slide into his head like a knife sliding through flesh. " - Know you can do it, it's not that hard. Just look at me Dean." 

Dean doesn't look. He did once, a long time ago. All he could see was Castiel's eyes, looking right at him, not stopping. He felt sick, the last time he saw those blue eyes, like a world he had forgotten about was crushing him down. He had looked away soon after, willing the voice to fade out again, to leave him in silence and dark. 

Cas stopped talking to him and the hand left his face, cold air biting his skin. He continues staring out the window, thinking of nothing until he fades out again.

_____

It's light again.

Dean is in a chair, not laying down like he was before. Cas must have moved him.

He is listening to Castiel making something. He can hear metal and a dull thud like a knife chopping through vegetables.

After a while Cas comes into his view with a bowl of something. He pulls up a chair and sits beside Dean. 

Dean is not looking at him. He will not look at him. 

Castiel doesn't ask him to. He just spoons something into Dean's mouth, and Dean swallows. It tastes sweet. 

After Cas is done he wipes Dean's mouth with a napkin and walks away. Dean sits and watches the wall.

Sometimes, Castiel talks to him when he eats, telling him something about Angels and Demons. He stops after a while, discouraged by the lack of any response. Dean is glad when he doesn't talk. It makes it easier to go away.

He has to stare at the ceiling a long time before he fades out again. 

 

_______

 

When he wakes up it's light out, but doesn't hurt his eyes. Maybe it's dawn. He remembers liking dawn, before.

Cas is moving around, dragging things over the floor. Maybe they are leaving, going to another nameless place Dean won't remember. 

The light gets brighter and brighter, but Dean's eyes don't hurt. He can see a tree, with green leaves. It's been a while since he's seen anything that color, so bright and clean. It almost makes him want to get up. 

He could only see a bit of the tree with the angle his head is at. If he could just move it a little....

He moved his neck. Just a little, just so he could see out that window more. See more of that green.

He felt his neck give an ache of disapproval at having moved after being still for so long. His eyes greedily searched for that splash of color, the shaking leaves and brown branches.

Suddenly Castiel was beside him, touching his hand and saying something. "Dean?" 

Shit, he had moved. He had forgotten about Cas, about how he monitored him so closely. He had just wanted to see through the window....

Castiel was touching his hand more, asking him if he was awake, (which he obviously was, staring at the tree outside) if he needed anything. He kept talking to him and holding his hand. Then he moved his other hand to Dean's face, lightly resting it on his cheek. He was still talking, soothing words asking Dean to move again, to blink if he heard him. 

The hand on his cheek was foreign and unwanted at first. But the warmth of it spread through Dean's face, the nicest thing he had felt in what seemed like ages.

He leaned his head every so slightly into Castiel's hand, wanting more warmth and comfort. The hand stilled, became more solid. Castiel stopped speaking.

"Dean? Can you hear me?" Castiel's voice was hopeful. Maybe he thought Dean was going to start talking, get up and walk around. But nothing like that was going to happen. 

Dean pried his face away from the warmth, closing his eyes when the cold hits his face. He doesn't fade out. "Dean? Dean! Open your eyes! Please!" 

Dean ignored Castiel. His neck was aching from the change of direction, small though it be.

He faded out soon after that.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day something is different. 

Castiel is planning to do something, he can feel it in his chest. The air seemed permeated with waiting. What was he waiting for?

He heard Castiel drag up a chair next to his bed, and the smoosh of fabric as he sat down in it. 

He was being propped up, and then fed something mushy and sweet he didn't know the name of. After Castiel had wiped his mouth, he sat there.

Dean held his face still, not feeling any emotions. He was all dry of those. 

Cas cleared his throat. "Dean. I know you can hear me. There is a high chance you can understand me too. There is also the chance you cannot understand me, but you are a strong man, and I will take that chance. If you can understand me, please squeeze my hand." 

It was then that Dean realized Cas's warm hand was wrapped around his limp one on the bed. He let it stay limp. Castiel didn't need him, he was useless. If it was so bad for him to be there, why didn't Cas just leave him to die? No, he was not going to squeeze the man's hand. He could lay here as long as he wanted.

"Dean, hear what I say. Squeeze my hand, please."

Castiel's voice was gentle, but there was audible desperation around the edges. Dean could not remember how many times he had heard that tone of voice. Countless people begging him to not do something, to do something.

He had learned not to listen to them.

His hand still lay limp on the bed.

"Dean. I know it's hard. I know you're a good man, who has gone through hell and back. You're hurt, You deserve a rest. But it's time to get better."

Castiel's voice echoed in his head. The words that were meant to be meaningful falling flat on Dean's ears.

Dean didn't understand why Cas called him a good man. He couldn't remember what he had done that was so good. He couldn't remember much at all.

Castiel held his hand another 20 minutes, giving Dean time to squeeze it if he felt the urge. But he didn't. 

"Tomorrow, Dean. You are going to wake up tomorrow. It's time."

When Cas got up and walked away, Dean continued staring at the exact same spot, thinking over Castiel's empty words.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean woke up from the darkness, Castiel fed him again.

The light beyond the window was fluttering and dim, like there were leaves beyond the glass blocking the sun. Dean watched it carefully.

When Castiel was done feeding him, he sat down beside Dean and didn't move.

Dean continued staring at the window.

After a while, Dean began to wonder what Cas was doing. He hadn't gotten up in at least 20 minutes. And he hadn't made a move to talk to Dean either.

After was seemed like hours of curious thoughts knawing at his brain, Dean looked at Castiel.

It was just a quick look, nothing thorough, just enough to see what he was doing. Dean's eyes hurt a little from looking so far to the right.

Castiel was reading. He was sitting with one foot on the chair and the other planted on the floor. His book was propped up against the higher knee. It took Dean a few seconds to realize exactly what it was, he had not seen one in so long.

Dean turned his eyes back to the window, the mystery solved, and mind quieted at last.

He tried to black out.

But he didn't.

Dean's vision stayed clear, and his mind awake and aware. He continued trying to quiet his thoughts to nothing, but it didn't work.

This happened sometimes, every once in a while. His brain would just not shut down, not cooperate.

Dean hated it when that happened.

He squeezed his eyes shut, at first softly and then so hard they hurt. Nothing changed.

He opened his eyes again and resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to fade out anytime soon. The last time this had happened, it had been hours and hours before the dark claimed him again. He had even started to remember.

Remembering was the worst, as he had no idea what he was remembering about. Flashes of torture, black eyes and sadness. But the worst was when he remembered the tall man with long brown hair, and kind blue-green eyes that twinkled. That was much worse than meathooks and people with fangs and fire burning his body.

Dean busied himself watching a beetle crawl up the wall, listening to the turning of pages. The sound was so unfamiliar in this quiet place, Dean forgot the beetle after a while and listened to Cas turning the pages. It made something stir in the back of his head, rising through the fog. He listened to the turning of pages as the memory, (or nightmare, either would work) flooded his mind. 

 

________________

_The man turned pages as Dean watched, with one hand on a cup of coffee. He had a red and orange plaid shirt on, and his hair was long. Almost to his shoulders, making Dean itch to cut it. As he watched, the man's eyes lit up, and he slammed his finger onto a paragraph of text from the ancient book he was studying. "I've got it!" He almost yelled._

_Dean raised an eyebrow, inviting the man to explain himself. The other man cleared his throat, and read from the book; "'The Vampire Cat. The stories of the Ainu people of Japan tell us that if man kills a cat without taking proper precautions, the spirit of the cat will avenge itself by killing him. The cat enters the man who killed it, who then gradually wastes away while gesturing like a cat and meowing. This awful death can be prevented by eating a part of the cat when it is killed, or it can be cured by killing a second cat and eating it" Dean cringed as the man finished speaking, looking at him expectantly._

_"Wow. That is weird." Dean said._

_The man nodded his head, while reading more about the Vampire Cat out loud. Dean didn't listen as much this time, just little snippets about this new creature they were hunting. He sipped his coffee as the memory slipped away_.

_____________

 

Dean's vision cleared, and the memory passed as soon as it had come. The colors and words left Dean's head as he tried to remember, sifting away like sand. He could never remember the details of a memory after it left, the same way you can't remember things you've seen in dreams. They just vanish, and there is no way of accessing those moments again. He already couldn't recollect what color shirt the man was wearing.

Castiel was still reading the book, Dean could hear the page turning right now. He couldn't have slipped away too long. Not long enough for Cas to notice, anyways.

He heard a rustle, and then the thud of Castiel's book hitting the floor.


	4. 4

Dean heard Castiel stand, and the clink of metal. Had he pulled a knife?

Suddenly Dean was afraid. What was happening? There was a bad feeling in the air.

Castiel had not said anything, and Dean struggled to pull his unfocused gaze from the wall. 

After a moment his vision cleared and he was able to unstick his eyes and look to the side.

He had to stare at the scene hard to comprehend in it. Castiel was standing in a defensive position, with his knife drawn, staring in shock at a person who had appeared in the room. Cas's face was still with shock, mouth slightly open and eyes tinged with fear. Dean looked at the other man, and froze on his face.

It was the man. The man with long brown hair and Hazel eyes. The one he always remembered about.

Dean's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at the sight of the person who haunted his mind. But he was wrong, something was off about the person.

He was wearing a bright white suit. There was a bright red rose in the breast pocket, and the fragrance of it wafted around the room, filling Dean’s nose. The man was holding his body like a king, with importance and deliberance. Not the way the other man had. 

The man’s eyes did not match the ones in Dean’s head. They were flat and cruel, not the kind caring ones Dean was acquainted with. They moved around the room, landing on Dean and staying there a moment. 

Dean found himself wanting to get away from those eyes, to never have them look at him again. 

He struggled to come up with the name belonging to this imposter. 

Castiel recovered from whatever kind of trance of shock he had been in, to say. “Lucifer.” He said with no apparent emotion in his voice. 

Castiel had named him, but Dean was sure that he was called something else. It was scratching the back of his mind, searching for the name.   
Lucifer smiled a little. “Castiel.” He said in a light tone of voice, “And...Dean.” 

Castiel stiffened even more, and shifted a little to be more in front of Dean, like he was shielding him from sight. 

“How are you here? I believe I warded the house quite adequately.” Castiel inquired. 

“Oh, Castiel,” Lucifer sighed, “When will you learn to not underestimate me. I am Lucifer, I have my way.” 

Lucifer was staring at Dean now, his eyebrows high on his face. “I always have my way. You of all people should remember that, Castiel.” Dean couldn’t help but feel that was aimed at himself. 

“Then what business could you possibly have here?” Castiel asked.

“I just came to check in, see how little brother and Dean are doing. After all, it’s been years. How have you been?” 

Little brother? What was going on?

Castiel stayed silent, and Dean’s confusion must have shown through on his face somehow, even though he didn’t feel it move an inch. Lucifer looked back at Castiel in mock concern. “Oh dear. Does he even remember?” 

Remember what? What the hell was going on?

Castiel looked quickly at Dean with concern on his face. He looked at Lucifer again and replied. “I do not know the extent of his knowledge.” 

Lucifer nodded his head. He looked almost sympathetic, like he was truly concerned for Dean’s well being. Dean had a feeling he cared, but not in the way he was pretending. 

“Poor man. Couldn’t have been easy, I suppose, after Sam.” 

Sam! That was his name! Sam, that was the name he he had been searching for! But it didn’t fit on this white-clad impersonator, the name felt all wrong paired with this face. 

“What do you need, Lucifer?” Castiel asked, and Dean could tell he was getting wary of this whatever game Lucifer was playing. 

“Oh I don’t need anything. But my world, my kingdom, the land I rule, that’s a different story.” Lucifer was picking at the rose in his breast pocket. “I need Dean to get better. I need a hunter.” 

“What?” Castiel’s voice was salted with disbelief. Dean couldn’t understand what Lucifer meant. 

“I need Dean. To hunt.” Lucifer repeated, like Castiel was moron for not grasping what he was saying.

“Why?” Castiel asked simply.

“My world is… failing. The humans who managed to survive the fight have reproduced, and the population was growing, but the monsters keep killing them off. Without the hunters, the supernatural populations grows more every day, and there is only so much I can do. So, I need Dean to recover and get out there. You know, doing what he does best.” Lucifer finished picking at his rose. 

“While I am sympathetic to your problem,” Castiel said, voice strained with the effort of being polite, “You can clearly see that Dean is in no shape to do anything. Much less hunt.” 

What was hunting? What is Castiel talking about? Dean’s mind was whirling, trying to make sense of what they were saying. 

“Well then, you better get started on making him better, shouldn’t you?” Lucifer chirped, his voice cheerful. “I need Dean out there, and I want him fully functional. You have two months to get him on his feet.” 

Castiel started to say something, and then Lucifer was gone. Dean looked at Cas, who was standing there, seemingly dumbfounded. Dean felt like he should be swearing, even though he was not sure what had just happened. 

Castiel started to turn, and Dean quickly averted his eyes, training them back at the window.   
He felt Castiel staring at him, and the feeling didn’t go away for a long time. Then there was the creaking of floorboards, and Dean knew Castiel had left him with his thoughts and questions.


End file.
